Whose Responsible This?
by Abraxas Qlippoth
Summary: Spongebob and company struggle to survive after explosions cover all of Bikini Bottom with oil.


Disclaimer: I do not own SpongeBob Squarepants, and I do not make any money from these writings.

**"Whose Responsible This?"** by **Abraxas** 2010-06-05

It was supposed to be a very busy Friday afternoon at the Krab. Spongebob waited by the stove, ready and able, hankering to prepare an order of a thousand patties if necessary. Squidward, true to form, snoozed behind the register with a copy of _Dance_ across his chest. Mr. Krabs, meanwhile, jittered about trapped by a state of perpetual anxiety syndrome. He went from table to table and fidgeted with the utensils - and when that obsession was sated he moved onto the snackbarge and re-arranged the condiments - and when that task was completed he started to count the unused ice cubes. A tally was required to satisfy the man, thanks to Plankton, who informed the IRS about his imported ice cubes.

At length, drained of whatever stamina was left, he inched toward the cashier and bellowed -

"I don't understand, Mr. Squidward...where are all my Krustomers?"

Squidward, jolted awake, stood and fumbled with the magazine. "No. No. Mom - I was just playing with the clarinet," he mumbled like a zombie. "What?"

"I don't understand, Mr. Squidward," Mr. Krabs continued, trying to forget whatever it was the cephalopod said, "for the past six weeks - since Sandy Cheeks opened her Texan Acorn site at the Bikini Bottom Industrial Park - a mob of employees have been crowding the Krab every Friday afternoon. Six weeks straight! And if they're not coming to eat at the Krab they're ordering take out..."

Which reminded him - where was Patrick?

"Where is Patrick? I haven't seen the fat pink guy all day long. It's not like the phone's ringing off its hook and the starfish's delivering orders."

Curses - if only Spongebob passed that damn boater's exam, then he would not have to hire such unreliable labor. On the other hand. A fully licensed and insured driver? Well the starfish was cheap.

"Maybe they're ordering a little chum?" Squidward quipped trying to be as nonchalant about it as possible. Anything to distract Mr. Krabs and avoid another discussion which may or may not lead to work he did not wish to perform.

Whenever the restaurant went without a customer like that afternoon the crab was known to get really really obnoxious and crazy - and that always involved Spongebob. As well as half-baked plots to draw the customers through the door. The last idiotic scheme involved that dreck of a commercial. Which alone would not have been too bad except for the shenanigans it inspired with Spongebob. By Neptune! He was not ready to relive that experience.

"Why don't you go check it out, Mr. Krabs, you don't want Plankton stealing away your customers."

Mr. Krabs rubbed his chin with his claw then stole a glance through the windows. The Chum Bucket sat idly at the other side of the road. Not even the tumbleweed paid the storefront a visit. Everything looked like a ghost-town, a gray, dreary seascape like a storm was about to descend. No, there were no customers, there were no customers everywhere forever.

The big red crab banged his face against the glass a couple of times. The impact echoed within the restaurant as if the establishment were a shell. And it was - it was! - now that it went without customers.

What was it? What could it be? That everyone just upped and left like that. Were people still talking about the time Spongebob kept a seahorse in the kitchen? He fought long and hard to squash those rumors. Of course, he did not help the cause every time he stormed out of the head with pants around his ankles, but he was working on it, and it was not happening a lot anymore anyway.

Something was awry to be sure...and it was not because he forgot to flip the closed/opened sign as he already looked at that a dozen times.

Squidward, meanwhile, grew bored to death with the magazine. It was the tenth attempt to scan through all of its pages. The entire edition was a feature centered on Squilliam and it seemed he passed the whole entire afternoon just doodling obscene little captions atop his arch-rival's image. Only one of the hundreds of photographs of Squilliam was spared. He tore it out of the magazine and stuffed it into his wallet where nobody, especially Spongebob, was going to find it.

"I've got a very special surprise waiting for you at home," he teased the folded image, grinning - nose twitching and honking - at the thought of what awaited that particular snapshot of Squilliam. He wondered (hoped?) if it were possible, even a little tiny bit, for his arch-nemesis to feel sensation through the medium of his image. Because... Because - if it were possible - it would be totally awesome dude!

Yes, Squidward was in a very happy place. Nothing could have destroyed the joy brewing within his mind. Nothing - except the squeal of Spongebob! By Neptune, it was like the oink of a pig skewered over a fire-pit. And the way it affected his pressure each and every time he heard it. He thought he was going to pop an artery. He swore the sound of it, let alone the sight of it, of Spongebob Squarepants laughing, it should be reclassified as torture.

"What is that buffoon giggling at?"

Then came that low, guttural approval giggle that could only be the geek's apprentice in malady.

If there was anything worse than Spongebob and Patrick is was Spongebob _with_ Patrick!

Enraged, he poked his head through the window and asked: "What are you two fools laughing about _this_ time? Whoa - Spongebob, what are you doing with the barbecue sauce and brush? Patrick, why are your shorts down and your ass in my face? And why am I asking these questions and oh god look at my life!"

"Oh, Patrick and I were just playing a game we discovered over the internet at . It's a whole lot of fun. Gary and I played it last night. See, I pour the barbecue sauce between Patrick's cheeks..."

"What are you two doing with my rented barbecue sauce?" Mr. Krabs broke through the door like a big red Kool-Aid-Man. It was like somebody shoved a rocket up his ass and it happened every time Spongebob and friend did anything to waste perfectly good condiments. "Whoa!" He was not prepared for what he saw. Patrick's ass was a sea of dark, sticky red and those were not the parts smeared with the sauce. "Er - you're wasting valuable condiments, my boys, put it back. Put it back now!"

"Ah, shucks! Well there goes my cleaning. I hope you're happy, Mr. Krabs, my ass is going to stink all day long!"

Disappointed - and looking a little dejected - Spongebob asked with a voice that sounded like a mouse about to weep: "I guess we can't play 'Put the Patty in the Coin-slot' too."

"I don't want to know. And no."

Mr. Krabs crossed his arms in front of his chest while Spongebob scooped the sauce out of Patrick's ass cheeks back into its container.

Squidward threw up a little in his mouth and vowed again to avoid the fumes at the Krusty Krab. 

* * *

The afternoon passed and the only activity noticed by the crew came from the sirens that flew by the Krab. Mr. Krabs, in a vain attempt to lure the fire fighters and rescuers away from what ever their job was originally, stood at the curb with a platter of 'fresh' patties. But the trucks went by without stopping to look. And the police, who were always suckers for his deep-fried glazed patties, appeared disinterested. It was the first time in a long time that the authorities of Bikini Bottom were taking their jobs seriously.

When the road was clear, again, it was just Mr. Krabs and Plankton standing at their respective curbs hawking their respective wares.

"So, what do you think's going on, Plankton," asked Mr. Krabs a bit reluctantly.

Plankton shrugged, letting the bucket fall and spill - "All Karen told me was about a fire at Sandy Cheek's operation."

Just then the computer wife Karen came out of the establishment.

"Wait, here she comes, maybe with news?"

Instead of saying aloud what it was she discovered about the day's events she simply whispered into the amoeba's ear. Something of a fight ensued with Plankton looking irate and Karen shaking fist. All of sudden she projected a sort of holographic image - it was hard for Mr. Krabs to follow from way across the road but the image looked like a tiny red crab and then a blanket of onyx settled atop it. The video cut and suddenly the couple gazed strangely toward the Krab.

"I was wrong, Krabs, it's not a fire, it's a party. Sandy's holding a party at the Industrial Park. You know those Texans. Everything's big and bad with Texans. I tell you what, Krabs, let me be sporting...let me give you a start. I'm going to take my time to fill my delivery-boat with chum before I take it to the revelers."

"Whoa, just you wait a minute!"

And with that Mr. Krabs ran back into the restaurant.

"Spongebob - I need a thousand Krabby Patties!"

"Yes, sir, Captain Krabs!"

And after a very hot and steamy hour behind the stove Spongebob saw Mr. Krabs and Patrick load the Krabby Patties into the delivery-boat. Squidward was exhausted too after wrapping the burgers with foil - again he snoozed with his copy of _Dance_. Spongebob, too, barely withstood the drain of it all. So much so that he scarcely noticed - or cared - that his elbows rested against the grill and his spongy flesh, swimming in an ocean of grease, was sizzling. It was a marathon session; to be honest, he did not know if it was possible to cook so many so quickly and maybe in hindsight it was not, but he was the greatest fry-cook the universe knew, and if the customers demanded a thousand Krabby Patties then come hell or high-water he was going to give it to them!

Mr. Krabs stormed into the kitchen to congratulate the sponge.

"Excellent work Spongebob - and to reward your Herculean labor you get to close the restaurant tonight."

"_Close. The. Restaurant_."

The plucky young sponge stood at attention as if struck by a bolt of lightning. A new and vigorous life flowed through his veins. He simply hovered, frozen in a grinning, gasping position, as the words sort of, kind of sunk into his brain. He was going to close the restaurant. He, Spongebob Squarepants, fry-cook, he was going to close the restaurant. He was going to be there, there alone, there by himself alone, to do what ever it was that Mr. Krabs did when he closed the restaurant. Except that time it would not be Mr. Krabs it would be he, Spongebob Squarepants, closing the restaurant. He pictured it then and there - his ass sitting all over Mr. Krab's chair. He hoped the crab liked the smell of assy barbecue sauce.

"Yes, now, listen, I'm giving you the key - oh, oh," Mr. Krabs hung his head to reflect his shame. He should have realized it. Spongebob was already a little too excited and looked like he was about to burst and he just took the geek way past the point of no return with the business of the key. Now there he was, the yellow sponge dude, convulsing about the floor, as if expelling a lifetime's worth of spores. It took about a minute and the effect wore off. "Yeah, anyway, just make sure everything's locked away and accounted. And make sure the gas is off before you leave, OK?"

"Yes, Mr. Krabs, you can count on me!"

Mr. Krabs sighed then bolted out of the kitchen into the driveway before Patrick's attention span lapsed.

Squidward poked his head through the window to announce he was going home. Spongebob, off in a daze, a mixture of excitement and the weight of responsibility, nodded unable at that moment to decipher the words the squid said.

At last, by himself alone in the Krusty Krab, Spongebob felt empowered. He felt the omnipotence of Mr. Krabs! Now - it was he who re-arranged the tableware and it was he who organized the snackbarge into total efficient perfection and it was he who counted the ice so that the man got that accursed tariff payment. And, now, it was he who sat back in Mr. Krab's chair in front of Mr. Krab's desk and, yes, sat with a deep, long sigh. The whole damn restaurant was his! His! His! His! all of it. Every last part of it. He gave orders, of course, to nobody - it did not matter though.

For a few, brief moments Spongebob felt like a god!

He took old man Krab's radio from the office to the kitchen. He tuned it to the local music station, KRUD, where the DJ was playing a new whale tune. Then, while he started to put the patties and items back into their containers, the broadcast was interrupted by a bulletin.

"We interrupt this broadcast of 'Batman Takes a Taxi' by Frank Miller to give you an important announcement regarding the incident at the Texan Acorn site. As you all know at noon today there was an explosion..."

Spongebob's mind, busy counting each and every patty, heard explosion and immediately thought of a patty. A warm and juicy Krabby Patty. Oh, what an explosion of flavor and joy the very morsel of Krabby Patty is! Er, naturally, just about everything reminded him about Krabby Patties. The effect was magnified because then and there it was the knowledge that his Krabby Patties - _made with love_! - would be the star of the party.

Well, he looked at his pants, which were rapidly becoming more pyramid than square, and quipped - "Now you silly silly penis! Remember what Mr. Krabs said about getting these Krab-on's in the kitchen? It's unsanitary!"

From the party in his pants to the party in the park - it would have been nice if Sandy invited him along to her Texan-sized Acorn-shindig or whatever but business was business and he had a lot of responsibilities to take care of now that he was about to close the restaurant!

"I want to let the citizens of Bikini Bottom know that I, CEO of the Texan Acorn Corp. vow to work night and day to gain control of the situation." It was Sandy speaking through the radio. Spongebob replied with a karate-chop that sliced the water - then went on to wheel the patties back into the freezer. "For the time being everyone should be at home, behind locked doors and shut windows. And if you can - filter the water that comes through your vents before you breathe it. We want to avoid any long-term collateral damage." All Spongebob heard was the tune he invented. Something about locking your doors and shutting your windows and waiting for the squirrel to check her list twice or something like that.

He killed the radio.

"Eh, it was getting too repetitive anyway, I mean, how many times do you have to interrupt us to tell us about your news flashes!" he said to nobody in particular. "Hey - where did the day go?"

It was strange - there had been nothing said about it over the radio and truth be told he did not really notice it until he stepped out of the kitchen. It was bizarre - and he looked at his watch to ensure that it really really was late but according to the clock it was only seven. Yet, looking out of the window, it seemed like it should have been midnight. The sky was completely, absolutely black and the vista beyond was just as foreboding. Although it was summer suddenly the water felt chilly.

Spongebob figured it must have been related to the hurricanes that passed overhead from time to time - then went on with the business of closing the restaurant. With everything counted, stocked, and locked and the gas curiously off by itself, he approached the door, then stopped, then gazed. He lay a hand on the glass while contemplating the seascape. Indeed it was dark. Like midnight dark. Like nightmare dark.

Gulping, he stepped out of the safety of the Krab. Through the glare of the neon from the Bucket he saw Plankton and his computer wife Karen board a boat and paddle away into the countryside. Odd, he vaguely recalled something about staying indoors. It must have been a song on the radio. Why was Plankton laughing like that so, so maniacally? One of those mysteries of life Mr. Krabs goes on and on about. When will the big red crab realize he gets all of the companionship he needs from the Krusty Krab itself?

Spongebob locked the door with the key then quickly stuffed it under the mat.

And thus started the very long and winding trek home.

Since he failed each and every attempt at boater's ed. he was forced by law to walk everywhere he went. Oh, Bikini Bottom and your wacky nonsense laws, he thought, it's not like anyone gets run over by boat anymore! He did not mind the walk, though, as a sponge needed to maintain shape. On nights like those, or - at least on paper - on evenings like those, it would have been nice to enjoy the convenience of a boat.

Everything was quiet as if a blanket were atop the city. Everything was onyx, too, and cool. There was no wind except for a single current of water that ebbed and flowed every so often. A strange, exotic odor clung to that current. He could not identify it off-hand except that maybe he smelled a very similar odor within Sandy's treedome. A perfume, no? No - it was different. He recalled bits and pieces of it. Sandy invited a whole bunch of scientists and investors - air-breathers by the look of it - from Neptune only knows where. Texas? Yes, he remembered it, it was the day she demonstrated the ray that made those copies of everything. She said that revenue from Texan Tea would be used to fund all of her inventions.

"Texan Tea - I wonder if that's related to Texan Acorn... Oh, those air-breathers just babbled on and on..."

He tried to distract his fear with a series of conversation but it was in vain. He could not escape how utterly and thoroughly alone everything felt. The streets of the city, empty, it was like a scene out of a movie. It only brightened a little when he approached Conch at the very distant edge of town. It proved to be worse as now it was possible to see and not just to feel the emptiness of everything. Only at the distance did tumbleweed bounce from brush to brush and everything beyond was distorted - it looked like a painting melted into goop. Then, slowly, degree by degree, the shadow and darkness that engulfed the city began to descend along the rest of the countryside.

The light that remained - that seeped through the horizon - added a curious detail that went otherwise missing. What seemed like night on the surface of the water was revealed to be another effect altogether. It looked like clouds, churning and bubbling insanely overhead, and reaching down and down. Those were not ordinary happy clouds either. Even storm clouds parted from time to time. The angry onyx cloak above covered the sky completely from vista to vista without thinning or breaking or anything.

Spongebob ran suddenly aware of a great loud drone approaching out of the west. He ran faster and faster thinking it was possible to avoid what ever it was that caused the unrest. Was it the black cloud of doom? Was the water finally falling? Alas, hiding under the bench of bus-stop he saw a glimpse of it - a migration of jelly. A hive struggling, fleeing that city.

When he arrived at the pineapple, exhausted, he lay against the door and collapsed. The house was every bit as abysmal as the rest of the ocean - except where the light broke out of the kitchen. It was bright and white and, strangely, reminded the sponge about something...clinical. Like the lights of the doctors at Weenie Hut General.

A shadow crawled along the wall of the kitchen - his heart raced at the sight of it - until the meow revealed it to be Gary. The snail was hungry and it was time to feed. Shaking free of the fright Spongebob walked into the kitchen with a 'Why, Hello, Gary' smile. 

* * *

Spongebob fed the snail then retired into the library. There, perched at the swinging hanging chair, he attempted to study for tomorrow's boating exam. It was imperative that he pass the test.

"It's imperative that I pass the test, Gary, especially after tonight - I am _not_ going to walk anywhere like that again!"

Diagrams and figures of Mrs. Puff were scatted about the table as he filled the bubbles of his practice test sheet. It was easy...he just darkened the lightened spaces that were only partially erased. After years and years of use the pages were quite worn.

Spongebob always passed the written test and especially excelled at the oral exam. He was able to pass them blindfolded and gagged, as it were. The problem was the practical. Every time he got behind the wheel it was like another tragedy awaited.

He was about to tell Gary that he needed to study without distractions - and that they would not play the Barbecue and Coin-Slot game until tomorrow - when all of a sudden he was interrupted by a knock.

"Hm, that must be a knock," he announced and marched out of the library.

He thought it was coming from the front door but the rap seemed to be echoing out of the back door. It was not just a weird location to be knocking but it was also a weird knock. Very heavy and slow sounding - slow, slow, like syrup. It was not the kind of knock anyone he knew would have used. Not even Squidward. He thought it could have been something hitting against the door and not a visitor.

He opened the door. And looked. And waited. The knock did not return. Meanwhile he scanned the vista - everything was absolutely pitch. Even the light coming out of the kitchen could not penetrate the fog.

With a sigh he shut the door and locked it and by chance he looked at the floor.

"Gary the Snail...next time use the box!" he shouted as he found the goop upon the floor curiously smeared about the edge of the door. He checked his feet but he did not step on it, rather, it was likely that he splattered Gary newest gift when he answered the would be knock.

Spongebob tried the soap and water, the towel, the mop. All of nature's remedies were simply shredded by the goop. The mess was so sticky and so gooey it resisted the attempt to clean it.

"Gary the Snail - I'm going to change you back to dry snail food! Ew... How does something this smelly and gross come out of that sweet little anus?"

Only a single item remained strong enough to clean the mess.

Spongebob dunked into a bucket of ammonia then launched his body against the smear. It took an hour of scrubbing, rinsing, wringing to crack the dreaded gooey enemy. He must have filled and refilled the bucket a dozen times. Eventually it vanished. The floor looked clear to be certain yet that smell...it refused to go away.

He wrung dry, exhausted and bent out of shape, and as the last drops of fluid oozed out of his body he noticed how onyx-like the water and the bucket became.

"Enough dilly-dally," he said, ascending the steps from the kitchen to the library, planning to spend as long as it took to memorize the test. "I need to study damn it."

At the middle of the climb came another knock - from the front door.

"Hm, that sounds like a real real knock too... Who could be knocking at my door at this time of night?" he wondered aloud.

Spongebob did not have to unlock the door all of the way and already Squidward rushed into the house. The squid shut the door and fastened a whole slew of locks. Most of which were brought from his house.

"Hey, Squidward, you OK buddy?"

The cephalopod was out of breath.

"It's... It's so hard to breathe. Spongebob? Didn't you get the news?"

"News? No - oh, you mean that bulletin about Sandy's Texan party?"

Squidward's eye bulged out of their sockets.

"You ding-dong...it's not a party!" He took a deep breath of fresh, clean water. "The goop - it keeps sinking lower and lower - when it got to my windows it seeped through the cracks of my house. I...I ran, I ran, Spongebob...because your house...it is organic...I figure it ought to keep the goop away longer."

"Goop? What are you talking about? Goop..."

"Turn on the TV!"

Squidward pressed the button and the TV lighted itself alive yet there was nothing but snow.

"Curses! The goop must be interfering with the signals. Look," he picked up the sponge and sat it atop the chair. "You know that venture capital operation your friend the squirrel started? Texan Acorn?" Spongebob nodded looking all smiley and excited like he was about to hear a great story. "Well, it blew up this afternoon and it gushed all of this gooey, sticky, smelly goop. All of Bikini Bottom is under a fog of it. At first it was floating way way up above and it was thin and nobody noticed and nobody panicked. Then, after the workers got distracted by a dinner somebody fed them the leak worsened and now it's filling the water. The last I heard the stuff, the goop, it's turning people into zombies. That's why they want you to stay indoors."

A flash of realization came to the sponge - and then another much, much unhappy thought - "The goop," he mumbled. "Sticky, gooey, smelly goop you say?"

"Yes! Did you see it?"

"No, er, of course, Squidward."

He figured that maybe it was not the right time and place to tell him about the smear he cleaned at the kitchen. Maybe it was not Gary's snailly thank you gift for that game they played yesterday. Still, he was not feeling anything like a zombie.

"Well, you're welcome to stay here as long as there's a crisis. Hey, wait, if it seeped into your house - wait, wait - what if it seeped into..._Patrick_!"

"You fool!" Squidward launched all of his tentacles to keep Spongebob away from the door. "You can't go! It's too dangerous - if that goop gets on to you it's over!"

"Oh, don't worry, Squidward, I'm a sponge and I'll soak it up."

He did not want to talk about the first hand experience with the goop that supported such confidence.

He undid the locks and peeked out of the door. It was black upon black, a deeper shade of pitch than anything he gazed at before. And someway, somehow, it seemed like a wall, swaying and gurgling, as if it were a blob of flesh with its own kind of life.

Squidward saw that undulation too and screamed and hid behind the TV.

Gary meowed.

"Oh, guys, it's not a big deal!"

Light was not penetrating the fog and he figured it would be useless to carry a flashlight. Instead he put a collar around Gary and headed out of the door. The animal knew its way around by scent anyway. It seemed to be the only way to navigate through the shadow and darkness that enveloped their universe.

"I'll be back before you know it," he said to shivering cowering Squidward. "Patrick! Wait for me buddy! Patrick!" he shouted as he left the house and shut its door.

The water was awfully dense and stagnant but down at the floor of the ocean there remained enough freshness that Spongebob and Gary were able to maneuver without a lot of resistance. It was still pitch and finding their way across the street from house to house proved to be much harder than he imagined.

With Spongebob trailing and Gary leading - sniffing and probing and sniffing the dirt - they found Patrick's rock. The sponge knocked while the snail watched. Knocking. Kicking. Screaming. The alarms were not answered.

"Gary - I hate to do it!" Spongebob could not leave a friend in danger. Against the odds he pried the lock with his badge and the rock arose a tiny little bit. He peeked into the void but found only a wall of black. "Gary, I can't lift the rock. That crack is as wide as it gets. I can't fit through it. Only you are tiny enough to do it. You need to enter, Gary, go!" He pushed then kicked the snail into the gap between the rock and the ground. Gary vanished behind that veil. "Patrick! - oh, tell me what you see, Gary, tell me what you see?"

There was a train of obscenities which then turned to hissing, then turned to growling. Then it ceased altogether. As that happened the goop lowered and lowered inch by inch. Its tendrils latched onto the rock and the force of its weight pushed it until the gap through which he sent Gary was erased. And then, at last, silence.

"Gary! Patrick! Gary! Patrick!"

Again, he mustered his strength. Again, he tried to raise the rock. It was like trying to twist a lid. It seemed like he was working against a vacuum. Then, when enough of a crack was free, water rushed through that gap and almost dragged Spongebob into the abyss of black that became of the house of Patrick! And then, with his hands because his eyes could not see, he felt something ooze out of the crack.

Panicked, he screamed and surged, and fell onto his ass, and crawled away on his hands and knees.

"Gary! Gary! Oh, Neptune - Gary! What have I done?" he shouted and spun. Absolutely lost he could do little but crawl about the bottom of the ocean. There might have been a foot of water left at that point and not a ray of light anywhere. He felt about where the gravel ended and the grass began. He noticed where the lawn seemed to be trim and reasoned it was Squidward's. Then, if he maintained to the right and upward, he thought the squid's monument/house would be within reach. At last, though, he felt the trail - the snail's fresh slime. "Gary! Gary! Gary!" he cried while he followed the trail to his own front door.

He could not stand as that would have put his head within the goop. Instead he rose as high as knees allowed - that was as high as it could be without drowning within the goop. He pounded at door and implored Squidward to let him in.

"No! It'll just let the goop in too. It's covering everything! Everything! Everything!"

"Let me in you cantankerous squid!"

"No!"

Spongebob heard the squid flail through the house.

"Gary! Patrick!" Spongebob shouted and drew one long last breath. He expanded and grew three times tall and wide now filled with the remaining fresh water. He stood and clung onto the side of the house. With both doors locked there was only one way left to enter the pineapple - the window of his bedroom!

But -

That meant -

Swimming through the goop!

Spongebob climbed the side of the pineapple - hands and feet were digging into the prickly scales that made the bulk of its siding, face was feeling about in search of the window. Yes, more or less, he knew where to go as he already climbed that climb too many ways to count. Although, of course, he did not climb it at night and he was not engulfed by sludge.

All of that water inside of his body repelled the slick. He found that by leaking a tiny bit of it at a time he was able to maneuver through the tar easily. He seemed quite adept to navigating the pollutant unhampered. It appeared to be adjusting itself about him, too, working as it were to keep him within a permanent bubble of water as he swam through it.

At last he reached the rim of the window.

He tried to dislodge it but those efforts were hampered as soon as he heard the word 'no' screamed out of the house.

Poor Squidward, Spongebob thought, there could be no 'no'.

He was almost out of water as it was. He pressed his face against the glass and opened his eyes. Light within the bedroom was shining through the window. He saw Squidward yell as he punched through the glass. Immediately a swell of onyx rushed through the portal and by suction dragged Spongebob along with it.

He launched himself into the center of the room and landed on hands and knees uncoated by goop - the goop itself, so sticky and gooey, just could not move as fast.

"Squidward!" Spongebob shouted as the ghastly image of the squid came into focus. Amid the struggle the goop splattered his face and his legs and he was walking funny too. "Squidward - oh, Squidward, I'm so so so sorry! I've lost everyone I love!"

He looked up toward the portal, as the goop was seeping into the bedroom, it was bubbling up to the roof and not falling down to the floor. He ran out of the chamber and shut the door. He dragged furniture from the library and the from the living room and from the kitchen and stuffed the whole entire hallway.

The goop, if it leaked out of the bedroom, would not until the entire chamber was filled. Even then, if it escaped, it would be trickling up to the roof of the house. It only spread by filling rooms from top to bottom - or so Spongebob deduced. He proceeded to stuff towels around each and every door. Then, thinking everything was safe and secure, he fled into the basement and locked and blocked its door.

That night did not pass fast enough.

It was eternity stuck inside of that tiny cramped cellar with only a flashlight and a radio. There was no signal but he kept the station tuned to listen to its random, soothing wail. It was infinitely better than the other symphony of sound now echoing through the house. The pounding coming from the back door that never, really, ceased but only gained intensity. The shouting, screaming, slithering as Squidward gradually turned into a zombie.

Spongebob cried.

"I've lost Patrick. I've killed Gary. And I sorta, kinda killed Squidward. My bestest friends are now the walking dead!" 

* * *

Despite everything he slept. No dream, good or evil, marked the onset of sleep. Rather, the only sign that such a feat occurred was the radio playing a voice instead of static all of a sudden. It was like an alarm and little by little it stoked the sponge awake.

"I just want to say that it was a harrowing night of terror," the voice said, it was so familiar and soothing - he stood alert - it was Sandy! "We finally got the situation under control. Most of the spill is contained and we've got the hazmat crews cleaning up what's left of the mess. We do regret that in order to keep the contamination from spreading..."

"Sandy! Yay! It's over! It's over! It's over!"

Spongebob raced the stairs while the radio continued its broadcast without a listener. He unlocked and unblocked the door. Beyond it, at last, there was light. Real. Actual. Light. He approached the front door and flung it open. While the sky was still gray here and there indeed daylight seeped through the surface of the water.

"Yes, Squidward, it's over!" he shouted, turning toward the staircase - then - remembering the fate. Squidward was not Squidward anymore.

Defeated, he sulked toward the foot of the stairs and paused - and screamed. A large blob of black lay across a few steps. A trail of tar lead upward, upward into hallway and then gazing further still he realized that the blockage of furniture he arranged had been undone. In the middle of the night, either while he sat awake or asleep, the cephalopod smashed the door of his bedroom and pushed the barrier of appliances apart wide enough to pass through. Indeed the door of his bedroom was just slightly ajar and by the looks of it the chamber was a mass of angry-looking shadow and darkness. He did not dare look.

Instead he gulped and backed away at the sight of that goop splayed across the steps where it tumbled. He was about to turn and run but there was something about that pile that demanded attention. He took a mop and passed it over the blob, removing layer after layer of ooze.

And then he screamed!

That pile was not a pile - it was Squidward!

Or what remained of Squidward.

It was drowned, disfigured and distorted, shaped into something ghastly as the goop smeared its body. Perhaps it was during the fall? Perhaps it was during the escape? Anyway it happened it was clear that all of the legs had been detached and only the tar-like adhesion of the goop kept everything together.

Oh, Neptune, it was Squidward. Everything from the six green tentacles to the wallet attested the identification. The wallet itself still contained the license, crisp as if new, and a magazine article about Squilliam where he posed nude at _Dance_. Oddly, blue lip stick number four marked where lips kissed (and tastefully censored) the picture's 'special' area.

He let the wallet and the picture drop - it sunk into the goop.

Suddenly Spongebob recalled the knocking at the back door. He opened. He looked. At the mat lay a very large, very heavy piece of blob!

"Oh, Neptune, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!" and he stomped out of the pineapple.

Spongebob ran toward the only location where he knew a refuge remained. The only place where he knew he had any kind of power whatsoever. The Krusty Krab! And then and there he was confronted by a sight he could not fathom - a line of people formed in front of the Chum Bucket.

Overnight the authorities, led by Sandy, commandeered that establishment and that morning they were escorting a mob of people through its front. Meanwhile truck after truck was pulling out of the back.

Spongebob need a distraction that day. Really, any sort of activity would do. Anything to keep his mind busy and not thinking of what happened. Anything to prevent a relapse of his addiction to patty-sniffing. Because right then and there a burnt crisp Krabby snorted up the nose seemed like a better alternative to reality.

Then, as he got closer and closer to the center of activity, he realized that those were not ordinary everyday people being shoved kicking and screaming into the Chum Bucket - they were _Zombies_!

"_Zombies_!"

"No. No. Silly. Those folks ain't no zombies." It was Sandy. She looked at Spongebob and squeezed the little yellow sponge very, very tightly. "Oh, thank Neptune you survived!"

"Sandy, what's going on? If those aren't zombies...what are they?"

"Contaminated," she said while checking another name off of the list. "Unfortunately, they got covered with good, old-fashioned Texan Tea and now, well, Spongebob..."

It was a huge line of people. Some were alone. Some were grouped. Others clearly were families. All of them were shoved one by one through the doors of the Chum Bucket - and, later, everything stopped to let another truck leave out of the back of the restaurant. The operation ran without pause all day and all night.

"It seems half of Bikini Bottom's gonna meet its maker today."

"What do you mean, Sandy, meet its maker today?"

"Well, Spongebob, Texan Tea is worth a whole lotta mullah by itself...but when it escapes and coats you under the sea critters, well, it becomes this gooey tarry goop and it's not worth as much. It gets into everything and it's really really hard to clean. And, yeah, to keep the contamination at bay and everything, folks who came into contact with the stuff need to be euthenized. And just by luck Plankton's got the equipment we need to do the deed."

The squirrel spoke everything out loud with a sort of glee. The operation to disinfest the city was engineered to such a level of perfection that she felt a great swell of pride about it. It was quite a feat - to gather the undesirable, to process and separate the worst of the lot that needed to go fast and the less and less contaminated that could be left waiting a bit, to organize the hazmat teams to truck the remains to the super fund site. Everything was going like clockwork!

Somewhere within the line a baby cried and a boy begged not to be turned into chum but the officers gave everyone a kick through the kitchen's two-way doors which parted enough to reveal a decor abstractly painted red and black.

"Everything that came in contact with it..."

"Yup, Spongebob, everything."

"Oh, Sandy, it was terrible! Gary got slimed by it after I threw him into Patrick's hole. And Patrick got slimed too and tried to get into my house but he was a blob of goop and I could not see him laying on the mat behind my door when he knocked. And maybe I should have known something was wrong when there was that gunk in my kitchen that I cleaned with my own body, Sandy, my own body. And then Squidward got turned into a zombie too after I crawled through the goop to break back into my house..."

All of a sudden Sandy was not looking happy anymore.

"Spongebob, why don't you follow this kind officer into the Krusty Krab for a moment."

"OK - yeah, the key's under the mat," he said to the officer, still in tears and pain.

Sandy paced.

"Just what are you going to do?" a fellow scientist asked.

Filled with determination, suppressing the urge to weep and pray, Sandy took apart a truck then step by step retooled its engine and compartments into a new invention. She wheeled it into the Krusty Krab. For a few, passing moments she just stood and watched Spongebob Squarepants - her friend and would be lover if they were able to break the land-water barrier (and Spongebob's fear of vaginas) - while he rearranged the deck chairs.

"Hey, buddy, look what I made, it's a new fangled device for the cleaning of sponges. Just walk right in and let me know how it works. I need advice, you know, from a sponge."

"I donno, Sandy, doesn't that red sticker say 'Keep Out / Dangerous'?"

"Oh, don't be silly, that's, that's just something to keep non-sponges out of the box," she said, a tear dewing her eye. "Just hop on in and let me know, OK? And don't worry, Spongebob Squarepants, you'll feel better when you're clean."

She helped the sponge into the machine and covered the lid. And flipped the switch. And started the motor. It started to vibrate as its parts whirled about.

"So, just keep talking to me, Spongebob, let me hear your voice, OK," she said, drowning in tears.

"Well, it's kind of roomy..."

"Yeah," she said, checking another name off the list.

"Wow, that tickles, that really really tickles. Wow - I didn't think it would be cleaning there."

"Yeah, I want to be...thorough..."

"Sandy, I'm going to miss my friends a lot so I was wondering if maybe you and I, you know, might hang out more? I know you're so busy now with Texan Goop."

"Of course, buddy, we'll hang out...all the time...all the time, Ok?"

"Because there's like this game I'm dying to try with you 'cause I'm wondering if it can be done with a vagina - hey - what the..."

And with a whirl a puff of yellow confetti farted out of the machine into a pile as tall, as wide, as deep...as Spongebob Squarepants.

"_Whose responsible this_!" Sandy Cheeks shouted to the heights of Olympus and then, then, as the confetti was swept by the currents, then she knew...she knew...falling to her knees she knew... "_I responsible this_..." 

* * *

"You'll Feel Better When You're Clean" by Bill Mortaren, from the archives of the Bottomless Android Blog

Hey, it's Bill Mortaren. You know I don't often talk about hygiene at my blog. I know how you all get so sensitive when it comes to the icky stuff like that. Let's face it, though, what gamer wants to go to LANs all stinky? I mean, weeks and weeks playing the crack that is WoW and you know you'll be swimming in a cloud of your own funk!

Now combine that need to be clean so near and dear to all with our other obsession - geeky collectable shit! Why, then, you're left with this. New from those crazy Japanese folks and from those tycoons in Texas (the Texan Acorn Corp.) we've got a line of memorabilia featuring Spongebob Squarepants.

Full Disclosure Moment - after I attended SDCC last week I was given a very rare, one-of-a-kind piece from their ultra private Sandy Cheeks collection (I'm pretty damn sure Sandy Cheeks doesn't got a clue I've got this...). A sponge shaped like our favorite fry-cook from Bikini Bottom!

Taking it out of its ridiculously annoying clam-shell package (get it?) I was a bit shocked at the scent of it. A very strong petroleum scent. I figure that's probably the Texan Acorn Corp's idea of a joke. The sponge, though, is smooth and able to get into every nook and cranny you can think of. And, dare I say it, thoroughly authentic down to the last possible detail. Hopefully, when they get their scent right, I don't see how this can't be a hit with the over-thirty living in the basement crowd!

Ah, but does it work, you'll ask. Well, let me tell you! I got so excited wanting to try it that I literally got a Krab-on. I went a whole god damn week without bathing. Without even wiping! Yeah, just let that reality sink into your brain. My oh my this was one skanky ass gamer over here. Of course the crack was where it was at if you know what I mean. I gave it a thorough scrubbing and everything, even the barbecue sauce stains, finally got clean. That plucky young sponge took a licking all right! Easy as Sunday morning.

Hey, if it can get this slob clean, it can conquer the universe with its cutesy yellow squareness!

**END**


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